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User blog:Alien-king/The Conversationalist - Chapter 1: The Professional
The unending dreary droll of the elevators incessant humming has finally taken its toll on its passenger after 20 straight minutes of travel, he needs to find something to occupy his time out of fear that he will go mad before even starting his first day of work. He soon starts rummaging in his satchel and pulls out the first piece of reading material he can find, his job description. The very formal looking piece of paper seems very high class, despite how outdated the act of writing on paper has become in the last 20 years, it even has the UEG’s official seal of authenticity. As he starts to read it, he finds himself feeling nostalgic, remembering how ecstatic he was when it first arrived. For most, being accepted into the UEG’s expansive workforce is equivalent to selling your soul to the devil, but that having that outlook wasn’t acceptable for someone who effectively lived in a closet their landlord affectionately called an “apartment” for five years. At least the job was not anything that dangerous, it isn’t fighting on the front lines in any ongoing war or being a lab rat for some mad scientist, all it is is. He pauses for a moment “wait” he breaks the silence of the room “what is this job anyway?” Scouring the page seems to reveal nothing, the only vague detail he can find is the title “Professional Conversationalist ”. “What does that even mean?” These are thoughts one should of have had prior to taking a jump across the star system, entering a government owned building and riding in ridiculously long elevator for upwards of 30 minutes. But that was neither here, nor there, at least for the moment, and he shoves these thoughts aside and decides to focus on what he does know. That, whatever a professional conversationalist actually is, it pays well. 45.82 cR an hour, 6 hours a day, 7 days a week, 12 AM to 6 AM, much better than his below minimum wage delivery job, that’s for sure. The loud ding of the elevator finally stopping snaps him out of his thought, drawing his attention to the now sliding doors. They reveal a dimly lit, ominus looking hallway, the darkness making it seem as if it stretched on forever. Walking along, the clacking of his shoes on the metal floor is the only thing that fills the hallway, that and dust, lots and lots of dust, floating around in the air, it seems that this place is more in need of a janitor than a “professional conversationalist”. After a good few minutes of walking, he finally reaches the end of the hallway, only to be met with a large black door. “You have to hand it to the UEG, they know how to make buildings look intimidating” he jests as he pulls on the door and enters the room behind it. Within is, what he can only assume is, his office. A perfectly square and barren room, with its only noticeable features being the large window that acts as the back wall and the desk and chair that sit in front of it. There was no computer, not draws, not even a motivational poster. With nothing there to draw his attention or key him into what he has to do, he simply decides to sit down and rest his legs. “If this job is literally just sitting in an empty room for six hours then I think I’m ready to pledge my allegiance to the government” he steps into the room and pulls out the desks chair, sitting on it and curiously looking around his new surroundings. His mind begins to drift after a few minutes of this and finds himself leaning his chair back. “You are new” The sudden voice startles him, almost causing him to fall backwards if he wasn’t swift enough to grab onto the table and pull himself back up “Who said that?!” he frantically looks around, looking for the source of the voice. “It was me” Finding the voice, he slowly creaks his head to the window plain in front of him, his eyes struck with fear as he stares into the blackness behind it “Is someone behind there?”. There is virtually no light on the other side of the glass, the light in the office only making it harder to see anything other than his own reflection. “I do not recognise you, you are new, aren’t you?” whoever or whatever it is, it sounds female and is speaking softly, their voice not raising above a sort of hushed tone as they prod and probe for an answer to their question. Taken back for a moment, he does the thing any other professional conversationalist would do in this sort of situation, talk. “Uhh, yeah, I’m new...this is my first day actually” he rubs the back of his head as he laughs awkwardly. “It’s a curious thing to want to do, to work here, in a place like this.” “It doesn’t seem that bad so far, well, aside from what’s going on now, who are you exactly?” The voice takes longer to respond this time, as if pondering the answer to that question itself. “I am IA, this is my...home, my facility, my lab” before he can wonder what she means by lab she begins talking again “I wonder, are you aware of why you are here?”. “Oh” he reaches back into his satchel and pulls out the same piece of paper he was reading in the elevator, holding it up to the glass as if it had any effect “I’m a “Professional Conversationalist”, though I don’t really know what it means, I guess I just need to talk with people?” “You are correct, though, not people, you are only here to talk to me.” “Just you?” Looking back at the paper, it doesn’t seem to actually mention how many, if any, people he’d be working with “This really is an easy job…”. “That is funny, you are not the first person to think that, in fact, almost everyone thinks that before they eventually...leave.” For whatever reason, that simple pause triggers alarm bells in the back of his mind, ones he chooses to ignore for the time being. “I’m not the first? Who would ever give up a job like this?” “Lesser men, or perhaps, men on equal terms as you, time will only tell.” And awkward silence falls upon them, until an idea sparks in his head “Oh, I forgot to tell you my name, if we’re meant to be working together you should probably know it” he awkwardly coughs and clears his throat, as if building up to his own names reveal “my name is Layton, Layton Charles, I hope we can get along” he has to stop himself from putting his hand out for a shake. “Layton Charles…” another long pause follows “Yes, I believe we shall work well together” Category:Blog posts